


Across the Boundless

by Yatzstar



Series: Pit Brothers [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Brotherly Love, Existentialism, Gen, Iacon City, Male Friendship, Other, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Canon, The Pits of Kaon City, smattering of brotp, soundwave is an awkward dork with no social skills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28826373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yatzstar/pseuds/Yatzstar
Summary: Soundwave discovers a mysterious signal emitting from deep space, one that both terrifies and intrigues him.
Relationships: Megatron & Soundwave
Series: Pit Brothers [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954684
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

Soundwave first heard it in the pits of Kaon. Or rather, he felt it. A deep, deep vibration that washed over him like the whole of the ocean itself, reverberating with frightful intensity through his spark. He had never felt anything like it, and all his curiosity was instantly set upon finding the source of the phenomenon.

But it did not occur again. At least, not for millions of cycles, so long that the dark mech nearly forgot about it. When at last his spark rumbled within him once again, Soundwave instantly recorded the sensation, desperate to prove to himself that he was not going mad. And for the first time in all the long eons of his existence, he turned his visored face upward, and wondered.

Kaon had no sky. At least, so it was to its inhabitants. Above those trapped within its clutches stretched metal and smoke, illuminated by garish, artificial light. It was possible at times to catch a glimpse of an open space, but beyond was only a dull orange hue, and no one could say if sky lay beyond, or merely another level of Cybertron’s endless metropolis. To many in Kaon, the open sky was a fanciful illusion. Some had gone their entire lives without seeing the sun.

But Soundwave had never bothered himself with such things. Why would he? The furthest back his memories reached were deep into the mines of Cybertron, where nothing lay above but stone and metal. Looking up was simply not relevant to him.

Besides, he had more important matters to concern himself with. Caring for his brood of minicons, preparing for the next gladatorial match, and ensuring that no jealous fighters were working to sabatoge him. Never before had he felt any inclination to seek out what lay above...until now.

“...concur, Soundwave?”

The dark bot looked up into a pair of electric blue optics. So wrapped up in his musings had he become that he had allowed the one speaking to him to lapse into his background processes.

“Pardon?” he said stupidly.

The enormous silver mech before him tilted his head, the tiniest smile appearing on his normally severe expression. “Thinking of other things?” he inquired. “Have Buzzsaw and Ravage been quarreling over who gets to sit upon your lap again?”

“Negative, the feud of\--” Soundwave began a flustered reply, but his companion laughed, clapping the dark mech upon the shoulder.

“A small jest, friend,” Megatronus assured him, before his expression turned serious once more. “But it is not like you to at least _pretend_ to be listening.”

Soundwave hesitated before answering. What could he say? He hardly knew himself what troubled him. A mysterious frequency with no discernable origin, save that it came from above, and had only occurred twice in the span of some millions of cycles. It could very well be nothing at all.

But Megatronus was far more learned than he. Perhaps he would have some knowledge.

“A frequency has come of exceeding curiosity,” Soundwave said at last. “It is appearing to be a note, but it is the deepest ever registered to me, for its oscillations are observed twice only in many millions of cycles.”

Here he allowed the recording he had captured to play, and it seemed as though the whole room shook under its intensity. Megatronus’ optics visibly flickered, and Soundwave knew his fellow gladiator’s spark was racing within him, just as his was.

The note faded, leaving the two bots nearly breathless in the silence that followed.

“Such might,” Megatronus breathed out, breaking the stillness. “How has all of Cybertron not shuddered at its touch?”

“Its knowing is not mine,” Soundwave admitted, involuntarily placing a servo to his chassis to still his thundering spark. “The noticing of it has been not to others. It is seeming as like a tremendous thing, an unknowable thing, were humming to itself from the deep.”

For several long moments, Megatronus said nothing, still processing the sensation of that sound. Then he shook his head. “This universe contains many wonders, some of which are best left undiscovered,” he said, averting crystalline optics from the readings upon Soundwave’s visor. His tone was dismissive, but Soundwave knew he was trying to convince himself that it was not fear which set his spark to shuddering within him.

* * *

Venturing to the surface proved a more daunting task than Soundwave had expected. Not for difficulty— the dark gladiator was a master of becoming as one invisible, which meant  getting there was a simple case  of waiting for the guard to change and slipping from the barracks—but for the uncertainty it presented. What would the surface be like? Soundwave had seen it many times via holograph, but the grainy, flickering images left much undiscovered.

As for Megatronus, Soundwave said nothing of his plans to his fellow gladiator. The silver mech clearly disliked the mysterious transmission, and was quite happy to forget the matter and leave well enough alone. Soundwave could not blame him—he also bore a strong aversion to the signal and the sensations it stirred in his spark, but his curiosity overrode his animus. He had to discover the source of the sound, even if it turned out to be something wholly uninteresting.

At last the  ebony mech wedged himself into a shadowed corner, appearing as no more than a pile of scrap to the patrol that tramped past. The moment they were out of sight, Soundwave unfolded his long frame from hiding and stole down the corridor they had come from on noiseless pedes. Backpacked upon his torso was Ravage, who monitored the gladiator’s rear in case of the patrol’s return. 

Reaching the lift, Soundwave set the command for the surface and allowed himself a moment to decompress as the door slid shut. The first phase of his plan was complete.  B ut he was unsure if it  had been the easy part or the hard part. He knew where he needed to go, but he did not know how the general public of Cybertron would react to his presence. Gladiators were rarely permitted to be in the presence of other castes, and when they were, it was usually to be paraded before a gaggle of high-class benefactors like a prized showbeast,  unable to speak or do anything beyond what was ordered of them. Soundwave had been in such a position many times—such was the fate of one of Kaon’s mightiest—but it left him with little in the way of social skills when it came to the higher castes.

His internal fretting was cut short when the lift ground to a halt. Soundwave saw he had reached the surface level, and his spark thrummed within him, both from excitement and from fear.

The door slid open, and Soundwave cried out. He lurched back, servos flying up to shield himself from the blinding brightness that stabbed his optics like a thousand daggers. All he could see was the searing brilliance of pain and spots, burning his vision like fire.

His optics leaking coolant, Soundwave retreated into the shadow of the lift where he managed to collect himself. With several gasping breaths, he tinted his visor until it was almost fully opaque. Only then did he venture to open his optics once more.

The surface of Cybertron stretched before him. It was at once foreign and familiar—he had seen the majestic towers with their domed roofs by hologram, but it was so much larger, so much grander in person. Sunlight glanced off metal in a thousand places, and even with his darkened visor, Soundwave had to keep his optics lowered as he ventured from the lift. But he could not delay long—his presence would not go unnoticed, either from the guards noticing his absence from the barracks, or from someone recognizing him from a hologram. Soundwave knew his face—or at least, his visor—was well known in Cybertronian popular culture, second perhaps only to Megatronus. He would have to keep a low profile for as long as possible.

With a running leap, Soundwave twisted into his alt mode and took to the sky. It was strange having only emptiness above him, and the urge to streak as far and fast as he could was almost overwhelming. But he restrained himself. He had other priorities. And right now, those came in the form of the Iacon Hall of Records.


	2. Chapter 2

The Iacon Hall of Records was unmistakable. An enormous structure  towering above its neighbors , its metal sides intricately carved with images of Cybertron’s heroes. The bulk of the archives was off-limits except with permission by the  high council, but there was a section open to the public that functioned as a sort of library. This was where Soundwave set his sights as he approached the majestic hall.

Somersaulting into his mech form with a grace that belied his bulky appearance, the dark bot approached the entrance,  keeping a wary eye out for any who might recognize and stop him . A slender femme shepherding two sparklings emerged from the doorway,  and her optics widened at the sight of the enormous mech looming before her,  but she  only swiftly drew her protesting charges away  without a word .

Soundwave stepped into the hall, grateful for the shade  on his strained optics . Before him stretched rows of pale metal shelves  beneath a high, arched ceiling , each neatly filled with holopads that emitted their faint blue glow. Soundwave guessed they contained epics, poetry, textbooks, anything a working-class Cybertronian might find an interesting read. 

The dark warrior was staring at a row of holopads, unsure where to even begin, when a voice caught his attention.

“Here is it! Heracles Prime and the Nine-Headed Predacon!”

Peering cautiously around the shelving into the next aisle, Soundwave saw  the bright colors and small frames of three sparklings. One stood upon the other’s shoulders, and was attempting to wrestle a holopad from its position wedged tightly into the shelf, while the third stood back,  keeping lookout.

Beneath his visor, Soundwave arched an eyebrow. The three were unsupervised, and it was only a matter of time before the precariously perched sparkling fell, doubtless taking half the shelf with him. 

But before the gladiator could decide whether or not to intervene, a new voice sounded. One as strong and calm as the Well of Allsparks.

“What do you three think you’re doing?”

The sparklings’ heads turned in unison, and Soundwave too raised his gaze to see a massive mech approaching from the far end of the aisle .  T he newcomer was of impressive size for one of his caste,  though  Soundwave  still  stood head and shoulders above him, with deep crimson plating and a cobalt helm. His optics were gentle, and Soundwave thought he had never seen such a kindness before.

“We’re, uh,” the sparkling not engaged in a feat of acrobatics stammered out, but her companions were too incriminating to come up with an excuse on the fly. “We’re looking for a story?”

“Oh?” The newcomer folded his massive servos across his chassis, a knowing smile appearing on his faceplate. “The section for sparklings is over there.”

“We, uh, we know,” the sparkling said, shuffling her small, emerald colored pedes in embarrasment. “We...we wanted to read about--”

Just then the top sparkling overbalanced. With a yelp, he fell backward, and would have landed on the floor had the mech not scooped him up in one enormous servo. 

“Be careful, little one,” he chided, but without harshness, setting the youngling upright safely on the floor. “Now, what’s this you were looking to read?”

Pulling the holopad from the shelf, the crimson mech inspected it while the three young ones stared guiltily at the floor.

“’Heracles Prime and the Nine-Headed Predacon,’” he read, then arched an eyebrow at the three miscreants before him. “This is advanced reading for ones of your age. There are many scenes a sparkling might find quite scary.”

“So, we can’t read it?” The femme ventured, her voice small.

“I didn’t say that,” the mech replied gently, kneeling before the three with the same warm smile. “You may borrow it, but only if your caretakers are willing to read it to you. If they refuse, you must honor their wishes. If they wish to complain, they may do so to me. Understood?”

The sparkling took the holopad as if it was made of solid platinum. “Yes, sir!” the trio chorused, “Thank you, sir!”

They scurried away before this adult could change his mind, chattering excitedly among themselves. The mech watched them go.

“May I help you?” He asked then, turning to the black shadow loitering awkwardly at the end of the aisle, half-hidden by shelving.

It was several moments before Soundwave realized he was being spoken to. He stepped forth, unsure of how to proceed. “Are you...of the working entities  of this place?” he ventured.

Inwardly he cringed, waiting for the mech to comment or otherwise react to his odd speech patterns, as was so often the case with the wealthy upper class bots he was in contact with. But it never came.

“I am,” the mech said, smiling up at the enormous gladiator without a hint of aprehension, only innocent curiosity. “My name is Orion Pax. I am an archivist here.”

Soundwave allowed himself to relax, if only ever so slightly. “The designation I possess is Soundwave.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Soundwave,” Orion replied, then nodded to the gladiator’s chassis. “And to your deployers, it is a pleasure to meet you also.”

Soundwave was taken aback by this remark. No one, not even his fellow gladiators, had ever acknowledged minicons—his, or otherwise—as anything more than pets or slaves with no sentience of their own. Save Megatronus of course, and even then Soundwave knew he often struggled with the notion. But this Orion Pax had acknowledged the truth—that they were just as sentient and intelligent as any other Cybertronian. Soundwave was beginning to think he did not fully dislike this archivist.

“Now,” said Orion Pax, ”tell me what you seek.”

So  Soundwave did. He explained what he had felt, the indescribable, tremendous sensation, and how it had vanished for eons before suddenly returning. Only after telling the crimson archivist all did he play back the recording he had captured, for fear it would overwhelm the smaller bot. After seeing how Megatronus had reacted to it, Soundwave was unsure  how Orion Pax  w ould handle  the sensation.

The tsunami of sound rumbled like a living thing in the vast library,  deeper than deep,  vibrating in both bots’ plating. As before, Soundwave’s spark thundered within him, thrill and terror and wonder all blending together. Orion’s optics widened, but to Soundwave’s amazement, it was not fear which filled his gaze—at least, not the same sort of fear as the gladiator—but more like the awe and joy of complete and awesome power. His reaction baffled Soundwave, but he found himself wanting to share such feelings.

The sound faded, leaving the silence of the library heavy upon both bots.

Then the silence was broken by a voice.

“Well now,” it rumbled, almost as deep and powerful as the mysterious signal. “That _is_ something.”

Both mechs turned, and Soundwave took an involuntary step back at the sight of the gargantuan bot approaching down the row of shelves.  His posture was bent, his faded maroon plating scratched and scarred with age, but Soundwave sensed that this mech—this ancient,  _ancient_ mech—could have flattened all of Kaon without so much as a backward look. In servos  that  could have taken Soundwave’s head off with a single blow,  he gripped a walking stick carved with the image of a feather quill.

“Master,” Orion exclaimed, straightening and dipping his helm respectfully, “it is good to see you.”

“You speak as if we did not meet but this very morning,” the newcomer replied, one eyebrow arched over pale optics that seemed to contain universes within them.

Orion stammered, embarrassed. “Apologies, master, I was merely--”

“Peace, Orion,” the enormous mech held up a servo, a smile creasing his weathered faceplate. “You still do not know when I jest. Now, who is this newcomer you’ve brought, carrying such unusual recordings?”

Those deep optics turned upon Soundwave, who felt the mech’s gaze like a physical pressure upon him. He resisted the urge to step back.

“Ah, this is Soundwave,” Orion explained, then nodded to the giant before them. “Soundwave, this is my master and teacher, Alpha Trion.”


	3. Chapter 3

Soundwave had faced down Predacons. In the pits of Kaon, he had fought Insecticons maddened by starvation with only his bare servos, barely making it out alive. But Alpha Trion was far more terrifying than any pit beast. For despite all his enormous strength, there was an utter lack of the fury which Soundwave so associated with it.  Yet it was not from naivety. No, Soundwave knew  in the depths of his spark that this mech had been through the hell of war, all a gladiator’s sufferings and a thousand eons more. Yet his pain had not turned to fire. Alpha Trion had walked death’s path, and had made the  terrible,  dreadful choice to remain kind. This fact was somehow the most terrifying of all.

“A mysterious frequency, you say?” the giant mech mused, flexing massive digits thoughtfully upon his staff. His pale eyes held a glint of amusement as he spoke to his pupil, as though he knew exactly what the cause was, but was deliberately withholding the information. “Orion, why don’t you take care of our guest? It shall be an exercise in how much you have learned.”

The crimson mech’s gaze lit up, at once flustered and excited. “Of course, master!” he replied eagerly. “It is an honor.”

As he hurried away into the shelves with a new mission, Alpha Trion’s chuckle rumbled deep in Soundwave’s spark. The sound was somehow comforting. Then he turned silver optics upon the ebony warrior,  and Soundwave shuddered as he felt all the titan’s attention focusing solely on him .

“Soundwave, a strange star resides in your spark,” said Alpha Trion, his expression containing warmth, but also, Soundwave thought, sadness. “I was ancient before the Well first flared with life. My gaze is far-flung. I see that you have the workings of greatness in you, and in those close to your spark.”

Soundwave stood still.  No response could push its way past that tremendous presence. Somehow these foretellings, though unexpected, did not surprise him. Those pale optics must have known every facet of his being.

Alpha Trion approached. His steps were light, and it seemed he made not a sound, though he must have carried thrice Soundwave’s weight. He stood before the dark bot, one enormous servo reaching out to rest upon Soundwave’s shoulder as lightly as the feather carved on his staff.

“The war approaches,” he rumbled out, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “It shall be the last.”

Lost in those silver optics, Soundwave found himself confused at the sadness in the old mech’s voice. Surely the end of war was something to rejoice?

“Strange matter is in your spark,” Alpha Trion said again. “As is the path to greatness. But I know not whether it shall be the greatness of beauty, or the greatness of dread.”

These words sent a shiver through Soundwave’s plating, though he knew not why. To him, his future was endless gladiatorial matches, dust and spilled energon. He almost wished to have the foresight of this wise mech, but a larger part of him was too afraid of what he might see.

Then Orion returned carrying a stack of holopads, and the spell was broken. Soundwave felt breathless, as though he had ceased to vent during the brief interval, locked in stasis with Alpha Trion.

“Here is what I managed to find on short notice,” Orion said, oblivious to what had just taken place between the two larger bots.

Alpha Trion smiled. His ancient gaze was full of fondness for his pupil. “I will leave you two to it then,” he said. “I think it shall be an exciting  venture for two young mechs like yourselves.”

Gripping his carved staff, the giant bot ambled away as though he was just another old librarian, leaving Soundwave in awe...and fear.

“This is a topic I myself am still learning about,” Orion said, leading the gladiator to a table and setting down his stack of holopads. Then he seemed to remember something, and nodded to Soundwave’s chassis. “Your deployers may come out here—this library is a haven for all. At least, the guards never bother to check in here, we get so few visitors these days.”

Soundwave hesitated, wary of the offer, but the bright optics of Orion Pax were so innocent, so genuine, that Soundwave knew there could be no lie.  He would already be in hot water when he got back to the barracks— he had nothing to lose as this point.

“Deployers, eject,” he intoned out of habit. He neither needed nor liked to announce the arrival of his minicons, but the call was required of him in the pits. No matter who had bought his strength, they always relished the roar his words drew from the spectators.

The dark warrior’s plating contort ed , and four small beings sprang forth. One each from the front and back of his chassis, and two from their places folded into either forearm. Three landed lightly upon the floor, while a birdlike figure hovered in the air.

“Deployer designations: Rumble, Frenzy, Ravage, Laserbeak,” Soundwave said, gesturing to the minicons. Orion Pax nodded to the group, a smile on his faceplate.

“It is a pleasure to see you all,” he said.

Rumble and Frenzy, two sparkling-sized bipedal minicons with plating and visors similar to Soundwave, regarded Orion with suspicion. “Whatever you’re playing at, it won’t work,” Rumble scoffed, folding small servos across an equally tiny chassis. 

“Yeah, don’t think you can butter up the boss by being nice to us,” Frenzy agreed. “He can see through you like you’re made of glass, and so can we.”

Orion’s brow furrowed, seeming genuinely confused. “I assure you, I was not—”

“Rumble, Frenzy, cease and desist,” Soundwave ordered, his tone sharp. “Guests are we in this place. Once more insult the host of ours, and be returned to standby.”

The threat worked. The twin minicons wandered off, casting suspicious glares in Orion’s direction, but made no further comment. The archivist made no further mention of the pair, and did not seem offended, which relieved Soundwave. Though he trusted Orion enough at this point, he was still interacting with a member of a higher caste, where even small slights had brought fierce punishment in the past. To have Orion be so forgiving was so foreign; Soundwave had to force himself not to be suspicious. The archivist had shown no ulterior motives thus far.

“Now, to your strange transmission,” the crimson mech said, settling at the table, “it is...a rather large topic. Not for vast amounts of information, but for other reasons I myself do not fully understand.”

“What is your meaning?” Soundwave was even more confused by this answer, but he sensed that the crimson mech before him was genuinely doing the best he could.

Orion rubbed his helm, embarrassed. “Apologies—it is difficult to explain, but I shall start with the scientific approach.”

Soundwave arched an eyebrow beneath his visor. What other approach could there be?

Laserbeak hovered to perch on Orion’s shoulderplate,  peering curiously down at the holopad. The mech seemed hardly bothered by the minicon’s presence, flipping through the pages of information. 

“The sound waves you have detected are emitting from a gravitational singularity located in this galaxy cluster here, the Perseus Prime Cluster,” Orion explained, holding up a star map and pointing to a dense clump of galaxies. “No Cybertronian has ever visited it, but the singularity emits a single note at a pitch some dozens of octaves below the conventional musical scale. Many life forms in the galaxy would not even be able to detect such low frequencies, and indeed it goes unnoticed to all but the most sensitive Cybertronians.”

Soundwave did not know how to receive this information. He had never seen stars before  outside of holograms , and knew little of their functioning, much less a gravitational singularity. So he  blurted out the only thing that came to mind.

“The singularity is singing?” he surmised. “Is that not of the tales of sparklings? Stars which are singing?”

Orion nodded. “It is, yes.”

Soundwave blinked, waiting for Orion to reassure him, to refute the idea that he was taking seriously a sparkling’s fairy tale. But it never came. 

Growing more bewildered by the moment, Soundwave decided to humor the crimson mech. “But why? And to whom does it sing?”

The librarian laid down his holopad. “That is where the topic begins to reach beyond my understanding. Even Alpha Trion does not fully comprehend it. But I think it would be best for you to learn not by reading, but by experiencing it yourself.”

Soundwave sat still, his processors working. He had gotten the answer to his question—where the frequency was coming from. That should be enough to satisfy him, right? He knew the cause, no need to go further into these notions of singing stars,  and other such ideas that bordered on the absurd.

But in the depths of his spark, he knew there was more. Alpha Trion’s words still echoed in his audio receptors, and the way his spark thrilled at the sound of this cosmic music note...he simply could not let it be. He had to know the fullness of it.

“What is your idea?” he said.


	4. Chapter 4

Soundwave almost refused Orion’s request to remain until nightfall. Security was no doubt aware of his absence by now, and would doubtless be looking for him. The dark gladiator had no desire to drag th is kind archivist into his mess should he be discovered. Orion would surely face arrest for not reporting Soundwave to the authorities the moment he learned the gladiator was out unsupervised.

“What crime have I committed?” Orion demanded. “You have come to Iacon seeking knowledge. It is my duty as an archivist to provide such.”

“It is in your knowing that I am of the gladiators,” Soundwave told him bluntly. “We do not consort among higher castes unless ordered by a benefactor.”

Orion was silent for several long moments. When he spoke, his voice was lower and more full of fury than Soundwave could have expected from such a kind-sparked bot.

“Speak to me not of castes,” he growled out. “That vile system shames all of Cybertron. Would that I were on the council; I would not rest until all traces of it were nothing more than another sordid chapter of our history books.”

Soundwave was surprised to hear such revolutionary talk from such a soft-spoken mech. He made a mental note to speak to Megatronus about the crimson archivist—the two shared similar ideas and would likely get along quite well.

“You are accepting of the responsibilities should I face discovery, then,” Soundwave pressed. “The percentage chance that they will not detain you is statistically meaningless.”

“I take full responsibility,” Orion said, lifting his head boldly and the dark bot wondered at the leadership he saw displayed in those fiery blue optics.

Slowly the shadows crept across the floor. Orion had spoken truly—only two bots stopped in to seek literature, and were  sent on their way with out issue by the crimson mech while Soundwave hid in a side chamber.

The remaining time was spent with  the gladiator  wandering the shelves, gazing in awe at the vast stores of knowledge. He vowed that one day,  he would know it all . Still, he kept his receptors open for Orion’s signal to hide, or any other sign of danger.

The minicons for their part took the opportunity to  relax as they had never had the opportunity to do in the pits. Ravage stretched out in a sunbeam cast by the large windows,  basking in the solar energy. Laserbeak alternated between perching on the helms of Soundwave and Orion, while Rumble and Frenzy quickly wore themselves out exploring every nook and cranny they could find, and fell into stasis nestled in a corner of the sparkling section.

A t last the sun dipped below the skyline, long shadows shrouding the streets in darkness. Soundwave rejoiced internally—the afternoon had seemed to last for eons.  Recalling his deployers, he approached Orion.

“Is it time?” he asked.

The crimson mech looked out the window to where the last traces of sunset were fading from the rooftop reflections. “So it is. Very well then, follow me.”

Soundwave did so, his spark pulsing a little faster. It was finally time to put an end to this mystery. But what would he see? What if it turned out to be a disappointment? What then?

Shaking these thoughts aside, he fixed his gaze on the rhythmic bobbing of Orion’s helm before him. It was no use worrying about what he did not know. He would discover soon enough.

Orion led the gladiator to the back of the library, past a handful of vacant offices that looked like they had not seen use in eons. Glancing into each doorway, Soundwave at one point spotted Alpha Trion at his desk. The old mech said nothing, only nodded to the dark warrior, a faint smile on his weathered faceplate.

“This will take us to the roof,” Orion said, halting before a lift and entering a command into the adjacent console. “Iacon is surrounded by residential districts, so most lights are confined to ground level. All the better for stargazing.”

As they began their ascent, Soundwave felt doubt creeping in again. “You are of confidence that the seeing of the stars will resolve all queries?” he asked the archivist. “That the data will be of sufficiency for a meaningful answer?”

“Quite,” Orion replied without hesitation.

Soundwave, taken aback yet again by the other mech’s certainty, said nothing more as the lift continued upward.

The console chirped, indicating arrival at the destination. Soundwave braced himself as the door slid open, though he  could not say why.

The roof of the Iacon Hall of Records was not nearly as impressive as its intricately carved  sides . A broad, flat expanse of smooth metal, dotted here and there with maintenance grates. The building was so tall that Soundwave could not see the surrounding  boroughs unless standing near the edge of the roof.

Orion led the gladiator  to the middle of the  expanse , where the  neighboring lights were most obscured. Soundwave looked upward, but could see nothing—only an  endless ocean of blackness.

“I see nothing,” he said. “Only dark.”

The archivist frowned, before realization struck him.

“Perhaps if you removed your visor?” he suggested. “It is tinted heavily, is it not?”

Soundwave tensed at this proposition. His visor was a staple of his appearance, which naturally meant no end of attempts to see what lay beneath. More than one opposing fighter had tried to goad him into removing it, and many a  lithe femme had attempted to  coax her way beneath it with slender servos and silky words.  But a lways he had rebuffed such demands.

Yet with Orion Pax, it was somehow different.  His wide blue optics were innocent, sincere...caring. There was no  hunger for reputation , no desire to boast of being the one who had unmasked Kaon’s ebony warrior. Only an earnest desire to help.

Slowly, his servos trembling, Soundwave reached up and grasped the edges of the dark sheet of glass. He unclasped it from his helm and lowered it, allowing Orion full view of his exposed faceplate.

The archivist’s expression did not change, but Soundwave caught the tiniest shifting of his weight, as though he had nearly stepped back but caught himself. Soundwave stood mortified, waiting for his reaction, not knowing which would be worse—to have him cry out in horror, or to pretend not to notice but be unable to tear his optics away from the monstrous sight before him.

But Orion did neither. He was clearly surprised from the unexpected sight, but it did not stop him from keeping Soundwave’s gaze of flaming crystal without wavering.  No fear. No forced politeness.

Then he extended a servo skyward.

“Behold,” Orion said, “the sphere songs.”

Soundwave turned. The rooftop stretched away, dark hues of smooth metal, yet glimmering beneath with a thousand fractals of color. At first, the gladiator was puzzled, for there were no lights set into it, until he realized that it must have been a reflection of…

Oh! A reflection of the stars!

His vents catching in his throat, Soundwave turned his face up and up, and upward still. His mind had no forms to fit that which he saw.  Vaguely he felt Orion gripping his servo, steadying him, but all his focus was fixed on what lay above, trying desperately to comprehend it, to put shape to it.

The stars sang.  Shining and dreadful in their beauty, the celestial bodies had not the forms of flaming spheres of plasma as Soundwave knew they must. But he could not fit a shape to them, and he knew no living being had the foundation to even begin to see the stars as they must be seen. Yet still he looked, and though his spark would have given out to take in all of that glory, he took in all he could, all he could only just comprehend.

He heard the song.

That tremendous, tremendous song rained down upon him  like a never-ceasing ocean wave . It filled Soundwave’s spark to overflowing and beyond.  He did not understand  it . But he did not need to. All his vision was filled with light, and it seemed that even the shadowed places  of the sky shone, filled with the glory of the song. The stars sang not with mouths—if they had such things, Soundwave could  not say —but with their entire beings. A billion, billion harmonies, each individual, but made complete when joined together in a larger tapestry.  They sang of life and love, and the fullness of glory realized.

Soundwave thought he would remain silent forever, if only to hear the songs of the spheres in every moment of his existence. He knew then that the signal he had received was but a thread, a single part of this wondrous chorus, and he found himself wanting to sing back. His question was answered. Every question he had ever asked was answered in that song.

The dark warrior stood upon the roof of Iacon. His spark beat against his chassis, and he would not have been amazed had it been silenced completely while he stood enraptured by the song. He touched his gnarled faceplate and found it damp.

Beside him, Orion Pax turned to face the dark bot, his optics shining from where he too had been gazing up at the stars.

“Wondrous, is it not?” the archivist said, and Soundwave found himself smiling with the crimson mech. He could not help himself, nor did he want to.

“If every entity beheld this,” the gladiator breathed out, “Kaon would be but a pit of deserted ruin.”

“You speak truly,” Orion agreed, before his expression turned sad. “But few have ever sought the song. To most, they cannot bear what their minds have created for them. So they suppress the call. Even I would not have listened, had Alpha Trion not shown me.”

Soundwave thought of Megatronus, and how he himself had felt such aversion to the song’s calling. The archivist spoke the truth.

“What is that you are holding?” The gladiator asked then, gesturing to Orion’s clenched servo.

The smaller mech frowned, lifting his servo as though he had not realized he now grasped something.  Slowly he uncurled his digits.

Both bots gasped.

A shard of starlight lay in Orion’s hand. It shone in many-colored fire, its shape shifting with the movement of the mech in such a foreign, incomprehensible way that Soundwave felt unbalanced just by the mere sight of it. It seemed as like a flower,  but one that was blooming with infinite color and motion, all the flame and light of a star caught into  the shadow of delicate  petals that always bloomed but never wilted. Soundwave knew  at once that  he was looking at a four-dimensional object resting in Orion’s three-dimensional servo.

“What is that?” Soundwave asked again, though softer from awe and from trying to wrap his mind around the cluster of starlight before him.

“It is...a gift of the spark,” Orion said, scarcely seeming to comprehend what he spoke, as though he himself could not believe it. “The stars...they spoke to me…”

Words failed him. He looked up at Soundwave, and the gladiator saw in those wide blue optics lights that were greater than those which gleamed from the blooming. Soundwave wondered if the same was true for him.

Then Orion took Soundwave’s servo and pressed the cluster of starlight into his grasp. “Take it.”

“What?” The dark mech stared down at the object. Its petals formed and unformed before his optics, with no discernable weight or sensation of any kind. Soundwave knew he was only seeing a sliver of the bloom, but trying to comprehend it fully made his circuits want to short out. After all, he was only a three-dimensional being.

“It is a gift of the spark,” Orion said again, and Soundwave somehow understood without understanding.

The ebony warrior opened his chassis. The glow of his spark chamber seemed like a mere candle compared to the brilliance of the star shard. He carefully placed the bloom among the mechanisms, where it nestled as though made for the very purpose. As before, his three-dimensional form could not comprehend any sensation of contact with the  higher object. But he could feel its presence just the same.

Orion opened his mouth to speak further, but was cut off by spidery digits wrapping around his servos. Soundwave bent his long frame and pressed twisted lips to the archivist’s knuckles.

“All of my gratitude am I giving to you,” the gladiator said, crystalline optics shining in his monstrous faceplate. “You have shown to me that which I would have sought after forever, but never have found.”

Orion smiled. “I am but a  listener to the song , the same as you. Even the stars did not compose the  hymns they sing.”

“I must be returning to Kaon,” Soundwave realized, replacing his visor upon his faceplate. “Megatronus must learn of these happenings. He must meet you, archivist Orion.”

The crimson mech nodded. “I would be happy to meet him.”

The night air was cool upon Soundwave’s plating as he streaked across the Cybertronian cityscape. His thoughts were racing, full of all the dreadful beauty he had just been witness to. Megatronus must learn of these things at once.

Crouching atop a nearby pillar like some dark gargoyle, Soundwave waited until the guard had passed before silently darting into the lift leading deep into Kaon. Part of him loathed returning to the stifling underground, but he knew he had no choice. And besides, he had to tell Megatronus everything.

The lift chimed. The heavy metal door slid open, and Soundwave found himself staring down the barrel of a blaster.

“Stop right there, pit dog,” growled the guard. “You so much as vent in a way I don’t like, and I’ll melt that visor right onto your face.”


	5. Chapter 5

Soundwave knew better than to resist the binders that swiftly clamped down upon his servos. Not yet, at least. He only stood in stony silence while the guard tried hide his glee at having shackled one of Kaon’s most fearsome fighters.

“Wait until the others hear about this,” the guard said, almost giddy with excitement. “I’ll be the talk of the barracks. Maybe they’ll even promote me.”

The dark mech eyed the upstart, though taking care keep his helm angled straight ahead. He had never seen this particular mech before—a stocky unit of average size, with white plating marked here and there by blue highlights. He was likely a new recruit, which explained his attitude. Any experienced pit guard knew better than to run his mouth so.

“Don’t even think about moving, no-face,” the guard sneered, keeping his blaster trained on Soundwave’s chassis. “Or your little bird there is a scrap heap.”

Soundwave kept his gaze ahead, knowing the other mech was trying to goad a reaction out of him and give him an excuse to abuse his power.

“Soundwave, there you are! I’ve been looking for you all day.”

The energon drained from the guard’s faceplate at the booming voice. Rounding the corner was a massive silver mech, optics like crystal flames in his fierce visage.

“M-Megatronus,” the guard sputtered out, pointing his blaster at the approaching warrior. “Not one step further or I’ll shoot!”

The gladiator halted, a look of faint amusement on his features. “You’ve nothing to fear, friend,” he assured the pale mech, “I don’t bite...very hard.”

He bared wicked teeth in a grin, and the guard shivered, but held his ground. “I’m arresting this one for being out unsupervised, got it?” he said, though his voice was less sure of himself than before. “Interfere, and I’ll arrest you too.”

“But of course,” Megatronus said, holding up his servos. “We’re all familiar with how things are done around here, aren’t we, dear brother?”

Soundwave knew his pit brother was having fun toying with the guard, but was also purposefully distracting him. Ravage silently unfolded himself from the back of Soundwave’s chassis.

“I mean it, silver.” the guard kept his blaster trained on the massive bot’s spark chamber, regaining a little confidence as Megatronus made no move to step forward, servos hanging relaxed at his sides. “I’ve no quarrel with you, but I will gladly amend my position on that. Don’t test me.”

“Certainly,” Megatronus replied, his tone smooth and deceptively casual. “Even down here, we are all reasonable mechs.”

The silver bot could see he was lulling the guard into a sense of security, assuring him of his command over the two gladiators. Still, he kept the smaller mech’s attention on himself, so that he would not turn and see the whiplike tail of Ravage snaking around from behind Soundwave.

“Now, I’m taking Soundwave with me to be processed,” the guard asserted. “Follow, or in any way try to stop me, and you’ll get the same.”

Megatronus’ easy smile did not waver, but internally his spark heated with rising anger. Gladiatorial processing was the dread of the pits, where unspeakable acts were perpetrated upon the fighters to break their will and make them compliant. He had no intention of allowing his brother to go through such horrors.

Soundwave likewise tensed at the mention of processing, but Ravage did not cease his task. A tiny click, and the binders released.

“Oh, but you look tired, friend,” Megatronus purred, his optics flickering a deadly crystal. “Why don’t you rest for a little?”

The guard’s expression shifted to bewilderment. He started to say, “I’m not--”

A sibilant hiss brushed his receptor.  _“Sleep.”_

The smaller mech stiffened, staring down in surprise at the ebony blade protruding from his spark chamber. He tried to muster the effort of speech, but his optics were already flickering.

Soundwave’s blade exited as silently and neatly as it had come. The guard collapsed with a hoarse rattle, a thin trail of energon sliding from the corner of his mouth.

The two gladiators relaxed, Megatronus eyeing lifeless mech with disdain. “A pity. And they wonder why the pit guards suffer for recruits—they get upstarts like this who try to flex their authority and reap the consequences.”

Soundwave stepped around the corpse, and the silver mech clapped him on the shoulder with a rough laugh. “Now, I demand to know how you got yourself into that mess!”

The dark mech had nearly forgotten his visit to Iacon in the tension of the confrontation, but now his spark swelled with the memory, with the thrill of light and song.

“Wondrous things have I seen, brother,” he said, following the silver mech to their shared quarters. “Wondrous, dreadful, _higher_ things.”

The two sat while Soundwave allowed the dam to break, pouring forth all he had done and seen, and all its strangeness and beauty and terror. He told Megatronus of Alpha Trion and Orion Pax, the old librarian and his pupil, two beacons of hope in a world shackled by castes. And he spoke of the stars, of their song forever calling, and how it was a thread of that song that had first reached him across the boundless.

Megatronus sat quietly while Soundwave spoke for longer than the silver bot had ever heard. At last the dark mech’s words ran out, and he simply sat, his vocorder exhausted, but glad.

“It seems you have answered your query,” Megatronus said at length.

“I have,” the ebony bot agreed. “The data was of sufficiency for a meaningful answer and a thousand more of its kind. You must come with me brother, to be of witness to what I have witnessed.”

The silver mech was silent, and Soundwave found himself puzzled. Even now, why did he seem reluctant to share in Soundwave’s vision of glory?

“I shall go with you,” Megatronus said then. “I would like to meet this Orion Pax. He seems like a very intelligent mech. I think we shall have much constructive conversation.”

He made no mention of the stars, though Soundwave could sense they consumed his thoughts. The dark gladiator recalled what Orion had said: _“they cannot bear what their minds have created for them.”_

The two mechs prepared for stasis, neither speaking any more, but both full of thoughts. Soundwave observed his brother, and he was certain of one thing, somehow without surprise, but only a strange sadness.

Megatronus would never seek the song.


End file.
